


Born a Ramblin' Man

by grapalicious



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, relationship progression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapalicious/pseuds/grapalicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has a tendency to ramble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born a Ramblin' Man

It's a routine they establish, to some degree, very early on. 

Grantaire has always talked a lot. Not because he likes the sound of his own voice or because he has anything particularly worthy or interesting to say but because he's always had an extremely active stream of conscienceness and he can't stop his thoughts from tumbling out like a waterfall and turning into winding rivers of sentences.

In other words, he rambles. He rambles when he's happy, when he's nervous, when he's melancholy.

Enjolras, on the other hand, doesn't say much that doesn't need to be said. 

So when they first meet and Grantaire carries on about the futility of trying to bring about change and the deplorable state of humanity, Enjolras cuts him off with a curt, "Shut up," and that's the beginning of it.

*  
*

He's at another one of the meetings of this group that thinks they can change the world. At a table in the corner and he might be drunk- no, he's probably drunk- and he can't seem to stop talking though he has no idea if anyone's listening.

"It's pointless, you know? You're just trading in one fight against injustice for another. Because there will always be descrimination. And greed. As much as we would all love to play the part of Diogenes and tell others to 'step out of my sunlight', less would reply as Alexander the Great and more would reply as a douchebag. The 1% will always be assholes and ruin it for the other 99%. Equality is a pipe dream and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can focus on more important things. Like proper orange juice to vodka ratios in screwdrivers. Which, incidentally, is 1% orange juice and 99% vodka-"

Enjolras, who Grantaire thinks has been glaring at him steadily for a good while now, finally interrupts.

"Can you shut up? Why are you even here?"

That's something that Grantaire is honestly still trying to figure out.

*  
*

It takes him awhile to realize why he keeps coming back.

He may not believe in their causes, but he believes in them. He likes them. When he's there, they make him feel like more than just someone who is going though the motions.

He might like one of them in particular a bit more than the others. A certain golden haired leader. Not that he's good at showing it, considering he has a habit of insulting him and his group and his causes and he picks fights and argues and drinks way too much. Maybe he should work on that.

There's no one really around except for him, with five empty glasses in front of him and a sixth that's partially gone, and Enjolras, with a few notebooks and his laptop spread open in front of him. Grantaire stares at him longer than is appropriate and he can't fucking stop the words because they're out of his mouth almost faster than his brain can register them.

"Tell me, Apollo, do women weep when they realize that you have eyes only for patria and not for their charming smiles and sweet curves? Are they overcome with sorrow that your fervor and passion will never see the bedroom because it is reserved for blazing speeches and fruitless fights over inequality? You'll lay down your life for all manner of people but is there anyone you'd lie down with? Is it an irony or a fate that one who looks as though they are carved of the finest marble is also as cold as stone-"

Enjolras snaps his head up.

"Just shut up. What do you even know about me?"

That makes Grantaire pause in chagrin. "Not enough. So, talk to me. Tell me about you." He pushes the rest of his drink away and gestures to Enjolras, who raises a suspicious eyebrow but slowly closes his computer.

And for once, he lets Enjolras ramble on about things that don't have to do entirely with politics or revolutions, but about himself, and Grantaire listens.

*  
*

He hasn't seen Enjolras smile recently and he doesn't like it.

Grantaire loves when Enjolras smiles, even though it's never directed at him. It's beautiful and lights up the room.

Lately though, Enjolras has been studying for midterms and working on putting together a rally and he has a semi-perminant look of concentration on his face. So, Grantaire's making it his mission to get a smile out of him, because not only is he being deprived a sight that makes his insides feel like a toasted marshmellow, but Enjolras really deserves a breather.

Grantaire corners him in the student center and is already talking when Enjolras glances up at his approach.

"You know they say it takes more muscles to frown than to smile? Yeah, yeah, you don't need anatomy lessons from me when we've got Combeferre and Joly. Still, you're never fully dressed without a smile and all that. Hold on, hold on, I know a joke. It's a great one. Okay, so, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson are camping. Holmes wakes Watson up in the middle of the night and asks him to look up at the sky and tell him what he sees. Watson does and says, A bunch of stars. Holmes asks, And what does that tell you? Watson thinks about it for a minute. Then he says, Well, astrologically, I see that Saturn is in Leo. Astronomically, there are billions of galaxies and the potential for intelligent life. Theologically, it tells that God is all powerful and reminds us of our cosmic insignificance. Meteorogically, I think we'll have a clear day tomorrow. Holmes is quite for a minute. Then he says, No, Watson, it tells you that someone has stolen our tent. Eh? Come on, not even a chuckle? That was hilarious. I-"

"Shut up. It wasn't even that funny." Enjolras has got a smile pulling at his lips though, so Grantaire counts it as a victory and smiles back.

*  
*

Marius and Cosette's wedding is lovely. It's simple and elegant. Cosette looks gorgeous and Marius can't stop smiling at her. Courfeyrac's best man speech gets a standing ovation.

The reception is in full swing and Grantaire is eyeing Enjolras out of the corner of his eye as he rubs the back of his neck.

He makes a decision and before he knows it, he's in front of Enjolras, making a conscious effort not to wring his hands as he talks.

"Wanna dance? You don't have to, I know it's not exactly your thing, but I promise I won't make fun of you if you have two left feet. Metaphorically, of course, not anatomically, but I won't laugh at you either way and I honestly can't imagine you being anything less than graceful. I know lots of moves I can teach you. All different kinds of ballroom. A classic waltz, or a samba, or a foxtrox but I think that might be a little too advanced for you. I did a barn dance once and it was really fun, I think I remember all of the steps. I also know now to jitterbug. And of course there's the hokey pokey, which everybody knows is what it's all about-"

Enjolras puts his hand in Grantaire's.

"Just shut up and dance with me. You lead."

Grantaire has no problem pulling Enjolras around the dance floor all night. Enjolras can't do a polka for the life of him, but he's not too bad at a waltz. He files that information away for future reference.

*  
*

He spends a lot of time gathering his courage to do what he's about to do. And not liquid courage, either.

At first he considers doing it by text or maybe with a phone call but that doesn't feel right so Grantaire's going to do it face to face even if it might make the consequences more painful and less easy to run away from.

By the time he waits for Enjolras to have a spare moment, he almost chickens out. His stubborness and lack of brain-to-mouth filter force the words out. 

"Hey, I wanna ask you something. But it's not a big deal okay, and you can totally say no. I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go out sometime? I mean, I know we go out all the time, but do you want to go out with me? Just me? We could- I don't know- what do people even do? Get coffee, not that we don't spend half our free time in a café already. Or see a movie, even though most cinema is some form of clichéd propaganda that feeds into the same rehashed societal standards of bullshit we've grown up with. Or we could- you know what, it was a ridiculous idea-"

"Will you shut up already? Yes, I'll go on a date with you. Where do you want to go?"

Grantaire will forever love Enjolras' ability to get straight to the point.

*  
*

They're walking though the park. It takes longer to get to campus that way, but it's a nice day.

And it would be sweet, possibly romantic, except that Grantaire, ever the cynial narrator, keeps a running commentary on everything he sees.

"Does that cloud look like a dick? I don't believe in that Freudian crap, although, okay, I do kind of hate my dad, but I swear that cloud straight up looks like a cock and balls."

Enjolras nudges him in the side.

"Some people, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, I really do, should not have kids. I know it's taboo to call kids ugly. It's not right, I know. But some people's gene pool's could probably be considered a form of child cruelty."

"Grantaire."

"Are jeggings really an acceptable form of workout clothing? I know comfort chic's all the rage but jogging and jeggings don't seem like the most logical combination despite the similar names."

_"Grantaire."_

"I'm not trying to be all existential or anything-"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Grantaire gladly obeys.

*  
*

There's a look on Enjolras' face that Grantaire knows. He says as much.

"I know that look. That's your 'I have something serious and important to say' look. Which you usually have when you want to talk about overthrowing the government. Wait, why are you giving _me_ that look? What do you- Oh. Oh, this is it, isn't it? The part where you say, Here's you looking at you, kid. And I'll say, Tomorrow is another day. No, wait, that's two different movies and I would never be Scarlett O'Hara. I feel like I'm more of a Rizzo from Grease. But there's no way I'm going to mope around singing 'There Are Worse Things I Could Do'. Just, can you do me a favor and let me down gently because-"

"Grantaire, shut up," says Enjolras fondly. "I want to tell you that I love you."

"Ah. I love you too."

Nothing else needs to be said after that.

And yet that doesn't stop Grantaire from explaining why he considers Grease 2 to be a decent film despite it's lousy performance at the box office.


End file.
